Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 199: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

~ —= - = WX "Jie - as 7 ge ee oe gg Ee eG A DREAM THAT WOULD NOT FADE. “Over on Sand Creek—fishing. And have you a shovel?” “What fur?” “To dig bait with.” ‘You want a spadin’ fork.” “T want a shovel—to dig bait with. Re- member that.” He slipped a bill into the hand of the attendant. The shovel was forthcoming, and the runabout headed into the street, turning in the direction from which Simon Bent had come. He was a lean, broad-shouldered young man, with a shock of bristling black hair, topping a broad brow. His face was lank —he was lantern-jawed, the villagers said —his nose was more rugged than shapely, and the lips firm. His eyes were dark al- - most to a blackness under their shaggy brows, ‘and held a gaze that forbade ques- tions. | Beneath the eyes were shadows, darker than the eyes themselves, darker than the natural swarthiness of his cheeks. They ' were such shadews as come to men whose souls are burdened with hidden deeds, or who are hard bitten by bitter obsession. Bent tied his horses at a feed-trough in the rear of the smithy, and returned to the wagon with a metal jack with which he raised the rear axle. He removed the nut, swearing half audibly at the black grease which stuck to his hands, and then, seem- ingly without effort, lifted off the offending wheel. Rolling it to the door of the smithy he leaned it against the casement and called in: “Hey, Jack! You set the tire on this ' wheel, and this time you set it right.” The words were interpolated with oaths and obscenities. Jacques Duval stood up from his anvil, and with the back of his corded wrist wiped the sweat from his face. It was a genial face, a self-assured one, round, fair, _and crowned with a pompadour of sandy hair. The blacksmith’s daughter, a tow- headed sprite of three, toddled to the door, and mindful of the paternal bounds set upon her explorations, paused. . “ Run away, honey,’ called“ Jacques, and the child turned obediently. The great wheel caught her eye, however, and, stand- ing upon tiptoe, her fingers clutched at the ————— ny 573 spokes. For a moment the red-lidded eyes _of Simon Bent rested upon her. Then they turned to Duval, who was again stooping at the anvil. “Well?” he said. | “TI tofd you, Simon, it was no use to set that tire—the wheel’s too old. The wood won’t stand up.” “Are ygu going to set it?” ‘For the regular price,’ retorted Du- val, going on with his task. With an oath Simon Bent picked up the wheel as if to carry it off bodily. His foot Carr. in contact with a bit of scrap-iron, which he kicked into position against the door jamb. When the wheel came down again, it yested upon the metal, leaning ever so lightly against the casement. “* Jack,”’ said Bent, “I’m goin’ over to th’ bank and to th’ store. Then I’m goin’ to get me a bite to eat at th’ hotel. When I git back I expect that tire’ll be set—and no charges!” | Duval’s eyes lifted to the long-barreled revolver hanging on the wall within reach. He did not look at Bent again, and the lat- ter went away muttering. Untouched the wheel stood there when Bent returned. The blacksmith was busy over glowing iron. An aged collie, long since useless on the cattle range, but kept by Duval as a playmate for his daughter, lay in the doorway. | ; With a whine the dog sprang out of Bent’s way. Duval looked up in time to see the ranchman catch the falling wheel, which the mere brush of the animal’s body had overturned. ‘* Simon,” said Duval, as ; Bent replaced the wheel, ‘“‘ when you saved that dog you did the first decent thing I’ve seen you do in the twenty years I’ve known you. I’ve thought pretty hard of you, but’ I’ve changed my mind. Come over to the drug- store and have a drink. When we get back I'll do that job for you.” “I reckon you'll find out some time I ain’t as bad as I’m said to be,” replied Bent. “Ill go with you.” The saloon had been banished long since by voters of the State, but the Sand Hill country has ways and institutions of its own. One of the latter was the “ back OO COMIC YN S Colin